Last week Michael Clarke was made Australian test and one-day captain, to the delight of sponsors and marketers and the dismay of the people who keep them - and Cricket Australia - in business. The last time a national cricket captain was hated by such an overwhelming majority of punters, Arjuna Ranatunga was in town. And was being informed by Ian Healy that he couldn't have a runner solely on the basis that he was 'a fat, overweight cunt.' Healy's commentary has never been as apposite, although it's probably still as unbiased. Likewise the rest of the Nine Clarke's made most of the right noises on getting the big chair, preaching hard work, focus and discipline. Makes sense, at least, until you dig a little deeper. "The key for me is we go back to old-fashioned basics. That's batting, bowling and fielding."
Which is where the stunt goes horribly wrong. Because he's missed a fourth, and traditionally most important skillset in that assessment of what is important to Australian cricket. Sledging. And it's where Clarke proves his unsuitability for the most important role in Australian sport. Chappell, Border, Waugh and Ponting had their failings as batsmen, their weaknesses as tacticians and their question-marks as man-managers. But by fuck could they sledge. Clarke couldn't sledge his way out of a wet sack of shite. This makes him by my mail an automatic unbackable favourite for the Kim Hughes Perpetual Kleenex Box for Most Embarrassing Failure As An Australian Captain.
It's clear, then, that we need another candidate for the gig. Yet all the same old, tired, flawed names keep coming up. Watson, White, Katich, even Norcus fucking Marth has been suggested by someone deeply bereft of clue. All wrong. All too obvious. How about someone from left field. Someone in form. Someone with runs on the board in the most important skill of all - that which Stephen Rodger Waugh used to call 'mental disintegration'.
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you that chippy little right-hander from the Hunter Valley, Mr Casey Stoner.
Can he bat? Bowl? Field? No fucking idea. Possibly. But the boy can sledge. He can look multiple world champions in the eye and sledge the fluorescent yellow fuck out of them. Case in point (see what I did there?), post-race at last night's wet Spanish MotoGP. Breezing along in the lead, Stonerer was skittled by a woefully ambitious move from unknown Italian debutante Valentino Rossi. Rossi did what Rossi does, which was to barrel up the inside more in hope than expectation, before Rossi's Ducati MotoGP bike did what Ducati MotoGP bikes do, which is to wash the front out and deposit the rider into the scenery. But not before taking out Stoner on the Repsol Honda.
Stoner, who could probably tell Rossi a few things about front-end loses on Ducatis, having written the book on it - then dropped it somewhere, presumably - wasn't thrilled, it should be said. Particularly after Rossi remounted to finish fifth, and the pair's major title rivals Lorenzo and Pedrosa scored a hometown 1-2. Rossi, to his credit, was straight down to Repsol Honda to apologise for his monumental arse-up. Previous generations of Australian GP bikers - your Doohans or your Gardners - would have likely responded with salty sailor talk and/or a solid arsekicking. Not Stoner. He grinned for the cameras, shook Rossi's hand, and offered the deadpan observation, "It's alright mate. Your ambition outweighed your talent."That's great sledging. World's Best Practice, in fact. Great sledging requires two things. One, it should be cutting. Two, it should contain some measure of fact. To wit, SR Waugh's observation of Herschelle Gibbs that he'd just dropped the world cup, or yes, even Healy's clarification of the rules surrounding runners for the morbidly obese. Telling a nine-time world champion that his ambition was in excess of his ability to execute is right on the money - because it WAS right on the money. If Rossi's ambition hadn't outweighed his talent, he'd have been able to pull the fucking thing up and get it into Turn One without needing Stoner as an auxiliary brake. If Gibbs hadn't shelled Waugh the Saffers might not have choked in '99 (though that'd be to undersell them; they're World's Best Practice at that, too.) And if Ranatunga hadn't been a fat cunt... you get the drift.
So yeah. Get on the bandwagon now and beat the crowds. Casey Stoner for Australian Captain. And Chris Sandow for Pope. But that's another story.
The Doctor is OUT.
